


All the Luck

by EllieL



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Dejarik table, F/M, Gambling, Smut, Table Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:40:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23364091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieL/pseuds/EllieL
Summary: Han and Leia make a friendly wager over a game of cards.Everyone wins.For the March 2020 HanLeia Challenge prompt "luck."
Relationships: Leia Organa/Han Solo
Comments: 9
Kudos: 55
Collections: HanLeia Challenge





	All the Luck

They both watched as Chewbacca strategically retreated from the lounge with a grumble about the intake inhibitor valve, leaving the two of them alone at the dejarik table. Then they turned to each other, waiting for someone to make the first move.

Han broke first, looking down at the cards in his hands as he reshuffled them. 

“Since you seem to be having all the luck this evening, wanna make it interesting?”

“Define ‘interesting.’” She arched a brow at him, then glanced down to where his hands were still busy shuffling.

“Well,” he drawled, “we both got an awful lot of clothes on.” He smirked and waggled his brows at her, and she couldn’t help but laugh. 

After a moment of contemplation, she decided, “One condition. Winner gets to select the item of clothing to be removed.”

Han silently put the stack of cards in the randomizer, then nodded. “All right.” He was grinning at her, that lopsided one that had her already anticipating the inevitable result of this game.

When the randomizer spit out their hands, she studied his face before she studied her cards. He was good, but she knew him well enough that she could read more into his expression than the average being. Plus, win or lose, they both knew how this would end up. 

After studying her hand, she slid two of her cards back to the randomizer and watched them flicker, before picking them back up and studying them again. He randomized only one card, then looked back down at his hand, before raising his eyes to her. A brow was raised in return, then she spread her cards on the table before her. With a frown, he put down his own hand, looking between the sets of cards for a moment before meeting her eyes.

“Vest. Off.” 

The garment was hastily discarded on the floor beside him, with a waggle of his eyebrows. Then he was already reaching for the cards again, reshuffling and re-randomizing them.

A dozen hands later, she sat at the table completely topless but still wearing her boots, while Han was in just his undershorts and one sock.

“Should we be moving this game somewhere else?” Her eyes roved over his mostly-bared form while he dealt their next hand.

In the moment of silence, they heard banigng from the aft hold, as Chewie made his presence and occupation clear.

“Nah, think he’s gonna stay busy. And I’ve had plans for this game table for a while,” he said, dealing their final cards, then blatantly looking at her breasts for a beat.

She studied her hand for a moment, ignoring his eyes. “Oh? Anything that would make this hand more interesting?” 

Tapping his hand against his bare chest, he then waved them towards her. “We both got too many clothes for what I had in mind. So how about winner take all?”

“And loser takes off all?” Her lips quirked in a smile; she had a good hand, and luck had been on her side so far this evening.

“Yeah.”

“All right.” She studied her cards carefully, and slid just one to the randomizer. On return, her hand was even better. She watched him change two of his, then study his new hand. For once, his face was hard for her to read, though there was a twinkle in his eye that she liked very much.

Confidently, she put down her hand. The twinkle in his eye grew and that lopsided grin spread across his face as he put down his array of cards. 

He’d won.

“Guess you didn’t have all the luck after all, sweetheart.” He lounged back against the seat, eyes locked on her.

“Didn’t I?” Sliding from the bench, she bent at the waist and began to slowly unlace her left boot. When she looked up after dropping it to the floor, Han was leaning forward, watching eagerly. “The conditions of play were just that all clothing had to be removed at the winner’s request. No stipulations on what happened or who was in charge of the situation following play.”

There might have been a small growl before he responded, “You know I love it when you talk all bureaucratic.”

She laughed fully at that, having to stand upright to keep from falling over entirely, at how untrue his statement was. After catching her breath again, she smiled wickedly at him and leaned over to tend to her right boot. She knew just where her eyes were, and may have shimmied a bit more than was necessary to remove the boot. It dropped to the deck plating with a soft thunk, muffled by the leather of her other boot, and his pile of clothes. Slowly, she righted herself and moved closer to the table, reaching for the button on her pants.

His hand stopped her, as he leaned forward and traced one finger along the waistband, just firmly enough not to tickle. “Allow me.” His hands encircled her waist, pulling her close, between his legs. One hand stroked up to find her breast, thumb flicking just once across her nipple, while the other eased the button open and teased the fly down. Then, in a maneuver of more finesse than she usually expected from him, he managed to remove her pants and underwear, and lift her up onto the dejarik table. She saw his wicked grin for a split second, before his head dove between her legs; it took no encouragement for her to spread them, nor for her to lean back on her elbows and let him have his way for several minutes.

“Maybe I am the lucky one,” she eventually managed, trying futilely to catch her breath.

After a teasing swipe of her clit with the tip of his tounge, he looked up at her. “Feels like a win to me,” he said, hot breath caressing her thigh. Then he resumed his efforts, redoubled them. He’d never been a stingy man about this, and was quite talented at it, but she’d never known it was a particular favorite of his. She let herself fall back and enjoyed as his tounge was joined by fingers delving into her precisely, arcing her arousal up and up and up.

But the small circular tabletop was not especially comfortable, or situated quite properly, and she found herself more worried about falling off the back side it, rather than what his lips were doing humming around her clit.

“Han,” she gasped out.

He looked up sharply, and seemed to realize she wasn’t calling his name in arousal, aroused though she may be. His mouth left her, but his fingers continued stroking in and out of her slowly, his thumb coming up to draw lazily across her clit, back and forth, up and down. “What?”

It took her a moment to compose her thoughts, momentarily distracted by this new touch. Then she shook her head. “I feel like I’m going to fall off the table.”

“Well we can’t have that. I haven’t restocked the med supplies from that last trip to Sullust where Luke--”

“Can you not mention my brother while your fingers are inside of me?” She raised a brow, but only half meant it; she’d break his fingers if he stopped touching her now.

“What would you like me to do then?” His insouciant grin flashed for a moment before his free hand began to trace up the placket of her blouse, teasing the buttons, and his face grew serious. 

She pushed up into him, arms wrapping briefly around his shoulders to steady herself before sliding to the front of his own shirt, working it open as they slipped down. “Make this a little more equitable.”

He merely growled in response, letting her have her way with his shirt, and his belt. His clothes quickly joined hers on the floor, as did her blouse, before their lips found each other. The hand between her legs stroked her in synchronicity with his tongue, and more balanced and upright, she felt herself finally letting go, arousal rapidly building.

She was so close that she did cry out when his hand moved away from her, but it was a brief dissatisfaction, as it was quickly replaced by more of him, as she wrapped her legs around his waist. Both adjusted their relative positions a bit, trying to make the table height work for them. He had to lean down over her, and her hands were on the back edge of the table, denying them both the pleasure of touch. The angle wasn’t quite right, either, as he guided himself into her and began to roll his hips, trying to find a rhythm that worked.

After a few minutes, he stilled, and she braced on one arm, reaching up to touch his shoulder. They both let out a huff of laughter, and he shook his head, tousled hair falling nearly into his eyes.

“Ain’t gonna work like this. Maybe if you turn over?”

Nodding eagerly--him behind her was actually one of her preferred positions--she sat up and slid towards him as he withdrew and pulled away to give her room to maneuver. One hand was on her hip, helping her turn around and drape herself back over the dejarik table, smoothing up and down her back. She parted her legs a bit more, and pushed up on her toes.

He took the invitation for what it was, and slid right back into her, his cock hitting all the right places this time. When she moaned, now, it was not in frustration.

“So much better.”

“Yeah?” He withdrew halfway, and thrust in more assertively. “This going to be okay for you?” He lifted up on her hips just a fraction, nearly pulling her toes fully off the decking.

“Make it hard and fast, flyboy, and it’ll be more than okay.”

Repeating the previous thrust, he then rolled his hips and grunted. “Whatever her highnessness wants.”

The laugh she wanted to huff out at that became instead a moan of pleasure as he pulled out of her slowly, simulating everything just the way she liked this position for. Then he slammed back into her, pressing her into the hand he had around her hip, cushioning her on the edge of the table, but more importantly, letting his index finger press into her clit each time he slammed into her. It didn’t take much of that to have her on the edge, and she knew he was close, too, as his grip on her hip tightened and his breath came hot and heavy against the back of her neck. He nipped, lightly, just at the edge of her neck, and groaned her name.

“Han,” she answered. “Harder.”

He followed her direction, surging into her with all he had, hard enough that she knew her hips and his hand would both bear bruises from the table tomorrow. But she didn’t care, not when her nerve endings were aflame and every fiber was yearning, waiting to explode. All it took was the flicker of his finger just so, as he pressed home into her, and she was gone, awash in her own pleasure and barely aware of him following her, not three strokes later.

They both sprawled, panting and sweaty, across the dejarik table. Neither moved for long minutes, until finally she stirred, pressing and elbow back into him, his weight finally becoming too much. Groaning, he rolled and half-fell onto the bench seat, then drew her along to tumble into his lap.

“Bed?” he eventually managed to ask.

She could only nod, and let him lift her to her feet before he followed, and ignoring cards and drinks and clothes, made their way towards their bunk, impeded only by a few kisses and gropes. 

“I want a rematch on the way back.”

“Any time you want a game, I’m happy to try your luck,” he smirked, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her into the dim bunk for the night.

*

  
  



End file.
